


Indulgence

by bluecrownedmotmot



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal, Boss/Employee Relationship, Casual Sex, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Drug Use, Humiliation, M/M, Masochism, Scratching, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:30:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7313467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecrownedmotmot/pseuds/bluecrownedmotmot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post pacifist ending. The gloves come off in Mettaton's relationship with Burgerpants. Literally. Figuratively. Sexually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indulgence

Mettaton extended across the backseat of the car, seemingly touching every square inch of surface. Burgerpants glanced at his boss in the rear-view mirror. Mettaton was particularly stunning that evening, still wearing his press conference get-up: leather pants and a three-quarter-sleeved silver and ivory shirt with feathers woven all over it. The shirt fit over his shoulder pauldrons dramatically and made him look like an owl that had taken a wrong turn into the wardrobe for a Nitro concert. Being Mettaton, he pulled this look off smashingly.

“Could you sit properly, sir?”

Mettaton pouted his silver and black lips. “Darling, if we were in an accident surely Alphys could fix me.”

“I'm more concerned about you flying through the air into me. Somehow, I can imagine dying gruesomely with your heel sticking out of the back of my skull. It would be just my luck.”

“Then take care not to crash,” Mettaton suggested tartly. But he sat up, ruffled his hair, and buckled his seatbelt compliantly. “Did you pick up anything for me?”

When they were stopped at a light, Burgerpants pulled a baggie of powder out of the glove compartment and tossed it to Mettaton, who caught it and disappeared it into his bag.

“Good boy,” said Mettaton, blowing him a kiss.

Burgerpants curled his lip, rolled his eyes, and stuck a joint he'd rolled earlier between his lips. He lit it.

“In _my_ car?”

Burgerpants caught the glitter of Mettaton's silver and white eyeshadow in the mirror as Mettaton's eyebrow shot up.

“You can't even drive this car,” Burgerpants replied. “You refuse.”

“What's that got to do with anything, sweetheart? I still own it.”

“I pick up your drug of choice. You should let me indulge in mine.”

“You know I'll find some way to punish you later. But fine. I don't really care. I just don't want to smell. I've no idea how to clean feathers.”

Burgerpants opened the window and exhaled outside after holding smoke in his lungs. “I've got to be stoned to deal with you,” he kidded.

“I've got to be insane to continue to employee you,” Mettaton retorted. “Put on some music, please.”

 

Ten minutes later, Burgerpants pulled up to Mettaton's building. Mettaton made no move to get out. Burgerpants turned around to look at the robot. He was sitting with his back straight and knees pressed together primly, like a model passenger. He really was beautiful. Too bad he was crazy like a fox.

“Do you want to come up?” the robot offered. “I'll make you a drink.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

“Hand me the keys.”

They left the car. Mettaton greeted his concierge and handed off the keys to the valet. They got in the elevator and Mettaton pressed the button for the top floor. He pawed through his bag for apartment keys.

“You're not dating anyone yet, are you?” asked Mettaton.

“Not quite yet.”

Mettaton found his keys as the doors opened and they stepped out into the hallway. There were only two units on this floor: one belonging to Mettaton and the other the pied-à-terre of a rarely seen investment banker. Mettaton's door was closest to the elevator. He unlocked it and they stepped inside. Mettaton turned on the lights.

“Have a seat,” he commanded, gesturing to the sofa. “Wine? Cocktail?”

“If I recall, someone sent you whiskey,” said Burgerpants, who sorted Mettaton's fan mail and gifts. “That'd be fine.”

“Rocks?”

“Sure.”

Mettaton went into the kitchen, fixed Burgerpants his drink, and returned.

“I'd join you, but it does nothing for me,” he laughed. He sat down next to Burgerpants.

Burgerpants accepted the tumbler and sipped. “So how did your day go, boss?”

“Oh, it was just delightful. The media asks asinine questions but what else is new. Don't be a musical star,” said Mettaton flirtatiously.

“So you've told me a million times.”

“What? Do I say it that often?”

“Every time you're stressed out, yep. Which has been often lately.”

“Mmm, I suppose you're right. I need to relax. I'd like to get laid,” said Mettaton bluntly.

“What a coincidence. So would I,” said Burgerpants dryly.

“Imagine that,” remarked Mettaton with a smile.

 

Burgerpants clinked the ice around in his glass. “Can I ask you something?”

“You already are, my dear. Go on.”

“Whenever we've done anything, you've never got off. Why's that?”

“I still enjoy it.”

“You're not answering me.”

“I do get off, just afterward.”

“You're still not answering me.”

“Maybe I want _you_ to feel good. Why does it matter?”

“Wow, yeah that's likely. What if I want to be on the bottom this time? Do you not like being on top?”

Mettaton paused. He bent forward to rearrange a small sculpture on the coffee table that did not particularly need to be rearranged. “I prefer to be on top,” he said eventually.

“Then can we do that?” suggested Burgerpants.

“No.” Mettaton relaxed back into the sofa.

“What's the problem? Do you even care about what I want?”

“Not particularly.”

“Ugh.”

“I'm not in the mood,” said Mettaton evasively.

Burgerpants pointedly turned his head from his boss. Silence.

“Come now,” said Mettaton apologetically.

Burgerpants ignored him.

“I just... Don't want you to...” Mettaton began. “I want you to be able to walk away. This is questionable as is. I don't want it to be worse.”

Burgerpants pricked his ear toward Mettaton, but said nothing.

“You're hell bent on this, my dear, aren't you?” Mettaton started to warm to the idea. He continued teasingly, “There's no telling what I'd do if you wanted me like that.”

“I can refuse you if I feel like it. I'm aware,” muttered Burgerpants grumpily. “You obviously like telling me what to do and I'm willing to suggest that maybe I find it exciting in some horrible way.”

“Do you really?” inquired Mettaton, getting terrifically aroused as his mind began assembling a strategy for playing this game.

 

Mettaton _adored_ games.

 

“If you like being in control, why don't we do what you're feeling?” proposed Burgerpants.

“Really. You want to do what I want?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm, what is it you like about that?” Mettaton wondered quietly.

“Must I?” sighed Burgerpants.

“Oh yes. Do tell.”

“Um, I guess it's, uh, you're powerful and it's... The contrast between... No offense but you're somewhat... Effeminate...”

“Am I now?” Mettaton breathed in his ear, with a hint of amusement, rubbing his pink booted foot against Burgerpants' leg.

“And yet... Masculine and, uh... Dominant... So I guess I just like you bossing me around. I mean, you _are_ my boss... Can I stop talking now? I'm sounding really stupid.”

“Yeah,” whispered Mettaton. “I get the picture. So. Why don't you... Tell me exactly what you want and we'll see if it's what I want. If you wanted to do what I wanted to do.”

“Nothing in particular. Up to you. I just want you to... Be you. And fuck me.”

Mettaton slid back from Burgerpants and held several beats of silence. He smiled, and then snorted, and then howled with laughter.

 

“What's so funny?” asked Burgerpants, suddenly uneasy.

“You're disgusting and you should be ashamed,” Mettaton gasped.

“What?!”

“You shouldn't want this so bad. You're _sick_.” Mettaton said, becoming increasingly serious.

Burgerpants blinked at him, feeling ashamed. Mettaton observed his employee and laughed coldly.

“Get out now.”

“But-”

Mettaton enunciated each word cleanly, as he did when he was truly pissed off. “Do you think I want to fuck you? Pathetic. Leave.”

Burgerpants wanted to curl up and die. He turned away from his boss.

“What? Are you going to cry?” Mettaton mocked.

Burgerpants got up and walked to the door.

“How sad. You really wanted me to, didn't you?” Mettaton said softly, maliciously.

“What do you think?” snapped Burgerpants. “Just make up whatever you want to believe.”

Mettaton leaped up and pinned Burgerpants to the wall beside the door.

“It was a bad idea getting involved with each other,” hissed Mettaton. “It could only lead to heartbreak.”

“You started it!”

“You wanted it. _Didn't_ you, sweetheart?”

“Why are you so cruel to me?” moaned Burgerpants, raking Mettaton's metallic forearms with his claws in an attempt to get Mettaton away from him.

“It makes me hard,” the robot admitted. “We're doing what I want, aren't we?”

Mettaton's body was pressed up against his employee's. Burgerpants calmed down enough to notice that Mettaton was indeed telling the truth.

“You're toying with me.”

“You're a little slow, aren't you?”

Burgerpants, feeling like his head was floating in the stratosphere under the influence of adrenaline, wrapped his arms around Mettaton's torso, crawled his hands up under the feathered shirt, and dug his claws downward against bare metal. Mettaton arched his back and gasped. Burgerpants bit the side of Mettaton's neck.

“Shit,” whispered Mettaton.

“Who's sick, again?” asked Burgerpants.

Mettaton leaned his forehead down against Burgerpants'. Their noses were almost touching. Burgerpants hesitatingly put his lips to Mettaton's and he felt his boss smile. Mettaton kissed him back, licked Burgerpants' teeth.

“You're fucking mental,” Burgerpants sighed.

Mettaton let his weight off of his employee and shoved him away from the wall. He grabbed the back of Burgerpants' shirt and the scruff of his neck and began to march him forward. “Get to my bedroom, you worthless little bastard.”

 

Mettaton used his teeth to pull his gloves off and threw them over his shoulder carelessly as Burgerpants sat in the center of the bed. Mettaton knelt in front of him.

“So. You wanted to touch me? You may now.”

Burgerpants ran his fingers through the hair over Mettaton's ears and then trailed them down Mettaton's neck. He lightly followed Mettaton's arms down to his ungloved hands and applied pressure with his index finger claws to the center of Mettaton's palms. Mettaton winced and arranged himself so he was straddling Burgerpants' lap. Burgerpants laid back and played with his fingers, observing how sensitive Mettaton's hands were without the gloves. He scratched hard down the underside of Mettaton's fingers.

“Ohhh, yes,” said Mettaton, squeezing Burgerpants' narrow hips with his thighs.

“Does that hurt you?”

“Awfully,” Mettaton replied, clearly enjoying himself.

Burgerpants dragged his claws down Mettaton's abdomen.

“Don't scratch me anywhere soft where it would leave a mark,” Mettaton warned, firmly pushing away the hand starting to stray to the silicone part of his thigh.

“Got it, sir.” Burgerpants retracted his claws and stroked Mettaton's erection through the clothing covering his groin.

“Ooh...” Mettaton tilted his head and made eye contact with Burgerpants. “You're okay with this darling, right?”

“You abusing me? You do it every day and you're asking me _now?_ I don't know what's normal anymore,” joked Burgerpants.

“Oh, that's terrible,” lamented Mettaton.

“Don't worry about it, boss. The emotional trauma is water under the bridge at this point.”

“Is it? That's good. _Because you're fired_.”

“What?!”

“I can't employ such a little whore, now can I?” Mettaton shoved Burgerpants all the way down onto his back. He unbuttoned his employee's shirt and pushed his fingers through chest fur. “Your heart's beating so hard.” He grinned. “You _like_ it when I threaten you, don't you? Doesn't it give you a rush to hear me berate you?” He bent down to listen. Thrumming heartbeats were so charming. He stretched up so he could whisper in Burgerpants' ear. “It hurts. But you can't get enough, right? That's so fucked up, baby. But it get it.” Mettaton sat back up and gave his employee an enticing smile. “If you want me to abuse you more, you can always ask.”

Burgerpants looked completely and utterly speechless.

Mettaton laughed diabolically. “That look on your face. Ooh, having power feels so, so good. But darling, I need you to tell me you want me to continue.” Mettaton smiled and tweaked one of Burgerpants' pointed ears. “Look. No matter what I say to you, you're not any less than me.”

“ _I'm_ not any less than you,” said Burgerpants sarcastically. “Says the goddamn celebrity.”

“You have value, my dear. Nothing about me or the way I treat you negates that. This is all in good fun, agreed? Let's get down to brass tacks. I just want to fuck you, and I want you to defer to my every whim. Is that okay?”

Burgerpants took a deep breath. “Okay.”

 

“So, are you going to give me orders?”

“Why don't you get me ready to fuck you? With your mouth.”

“My tongue is sort of scratchy,” cautioned Burgerpants.

“How fortuitous that I'm made of metal. Why don't you get on the floor so that I may gaze down upon my obedient slave?”

Burgerpants hopped off the edge of the bed and Mettaton scooted over to sit with his legs hanging down. When Burgerpants was in position, Mettaton set the sole of his boot against Burgerpants' breastbone.

“So, faithful servant,” inquired Mettaton, “how _effeminate_ would you say I look from this angle?”

“Uh, maybe that was the wrong choice of word?” said Burgerpants, eyeing the obvious bulge in the robot's pants.

“Great answer. I love it,” said Mettaton with a wink, taking his foot away.

Burgerpants caught the boot in his hand before Mettaton could set his leg back down, and he kissed the top of his boss' foot.

“Yeah, that's it, darling. Worship me.”

“Go fuck yourself,” suggested Burgerpants, letting go of Mettaton's boot, stretching up to unzip the fly of Mettaton's pants, and pulling out Mettaton's cock.

Mettaton started laughing, but as Burgerpants took him into his mouth, he trailed off. He put a hand on the back off Burgerpants' head to guide him. Burgerpants simply did what Mettaton suggested and Mettaton made pleased sighs. The robot did not seem to mind the texture of the tongue on his shaft; on the contrary, he squirmed with pleasure most whenever Burgerpants decisively dragged his tongue along his prick. When Mettaton wanted Burgerpants to back off, Burgerpants did.

“How was that?” asked Burgerpants, standing up.

Mettaton thought deeply about this. “Unsatisfactory,” he announced.

“ _What?!_ ”

Mettaton grinned, having elicited the reaction he was hoping for. “Ridiculous questions get ridiculous answers.”

“Asshole.”

“Speaking of which...” said Mettaton.

 

Mettaton pulled Burgerpants' clothes off and pushed him down onto the bed on his stomach. He coated his fingers in lube and rubbed around Burgerpants' pucker. He inserted a finger.

“I can never tell whether you're messing with me,” Burgerpants sighed.

“That's intentional,” Mettaton sang. He rubbed Burgerpants' back with his free hand, until Burgerpants relaxed. He applied anterior pressure with his finger.

“Oh my god, are you purring, you slut?” He added a finger and waited for Burgerpants to stretch, continuing to massage. “So. Ever been on the bottom before?”

“No.”

“Tell me if I'm hurting you.” Mettaton moved his fingers in and out of Burgerpants. Burgerpants moaned. Mettaton smirked. “ _Slut._ ”

“Like you're not going to be too drunk on your power trip to listen.”

Mettaton took his fingers out to slick his cock down while running his clean hand through his hair. “As if I'm ever sober when it comes to power,” he cooed. “But I'll listen to you.” Mettaton pressed himself against Burgerpants and gradually entered him.

“Ow,” said Burgerpants, tensing at a certain point.

“I'll wait until you're ready,” said Mettaton apologetically. He relaxed onto Burgerpants and let him adjust, burying his face against the fur on the back of Burgerpants' head. He played idly with the end of Burgerpants' tail.

“Okay now,” Burgerpants said after a while.

“Marvelous,” said Mettaton, kissing his shoulder. He spread Burgerpants' ass and plunged himself to the hilt. “There we go. Still alright?” Burgerpants nodded stiffly. Mettaton pulled back and thrust in slowly, until he felt Burgerpants' tension evaporate.

“Okay the beginning was a bit rough, but now that feels... Really great,” Burgerpants managed.

“That's because you're a dirty sex fiend,” whispered Mettaton in his ear. “But you are indeed correct. Taking a dick has a certain appeal.”

Mettaton fell into a faster rhythm and clutched Burgerpants' hips. Burgerpants felt incredibly tight around him. _Oh yes_ , he did so enjoy being on top. Burgerpants felt irresistible tingling throughout his erection, radiating from deep inside him. If Mettaton touched him, Burgerpants knew it was going to be over for him pretty soon, but the moment would be so, so worth it. They both made noises that they would have been ashamed of had they not felt too good to care.

 

“Hmm, you're fun to fuck. You're fun to _use_. I hope I'm screwing you up for life.”

“No-one can be as messed up as you, boss. I'm learning from an expert.”

“ _You_ ,” Mettaton snarled, pounding him brutally. “You are such a disgrace. If you're able to concentrate enough to open that useless mouth of yours, then I must not be going hard enough for you.” Mettaton reached around and forcefully stroked Burgerpants' dick. Between the stimulation from being fucked and Mettaton's hand, it wasn't long until Burgerpants came into the sheets. Mettaton kept pulling at Burgerpants and only relented when Burgerpants started to wiggle from overstimulation. When Mettaton himself started to twitch, he pulled away. “Flip over, cocksucker. You're going to watch me come.”

Burgerpants rolled onto his back and Mettaton re-entered him. The robot started gently again. He stared at his employee. Burgerpants still felt delirious and light headed from orgasm, but he was pulled back into reality when he noticed Mettaton's gaze.

“What?”

“You make the stupidest facial expressions I have ever seen,” snickered Mettaton.

“Like you don't!” Burgerpants contorted his face into a parody of Mettaton's wry pout, puffing his lips out like a duck. “That's how stupid _you_ look.”

“Shut up,” Mettaton screamed, trying hard not to laugh hysterically. It was a good impression, but like fuck he was going to admit it. Mettaton put his hand over Burgerpants' mouth. “I'll give you some faces to mimic.” Mettaton put one of his employee's leg over his shoulders with his free hand and rammed deep into him. The robot lolled his tongue out and tipped his head back in ecstasy. He fucked Burgerpants roughly for a short while, but he was ready.

He slowed and took his hand away from Burgerpants' mouth.

“So, nnn, I have a confession to make,” Mettaton began. “You piqued my interest... When you worked in my shop... Yeah, I just found it fascinating how one person could be so lacking in... Work, mmm, ethic. And you were so _offended_ by me. I just couldn't... Remember all those costumes I made you try on? I really, truly, absolutely... Was masturbating as soon as you'd leave my office.”

Mettaton closed his eyes and stopped for a moment, unable to talk. He recommenced humping Burgerpants slowly, determined not come until precisely when he wanted to. “Don't even ask how a box masturbates; I'm not going to tell you. So, when I got this body for good... That day... I couldn't help myself. But the way you looked at me-”

“You could tell I wanted you, too.”

“ _Yeah_. That's it sweetheart. I wanted you... On your knees, like a good subservient... But I didn't want to scare you. I wanted you to choose to submit to me, I wanted you to struggle against me... So, look, I really can't take this anymore, darling, I need to come, but you've driven me insane for so long... I'm glad you're such a pathetic little bitch loser boss-fucker...”

And here, Mettaton shrugged off Burgerpants' leg, bent down to his employee's ear and whispered Burgerpants' name, his _real_ name, like it was the dirtiest thing that had ever come out of his mouth and he wanted no one else in the world to hear.

He pulled out just as he was about to come and ejaculated on Burgerpants' stomach. He closed his eyes, smiling asymmetrically and pulling his silvery upper lip over a canine tooth. Burgerpants watched his boss' face twitch and heard him moan; he pleased that this was how Mettaton had wanted to come, so he could see, finally, the effect he had upon the great and powerful celebrity.

“You had to mess up my fur, didn't you?” Burgerpants said, after a moment.

Mettaton opened his eyes, raised an eyebrow at him, pulled away, and bent down to give the puddle of his own come a lick. “Deal with it.” He brought his face up to Burgerpants' and tentatively put his tongue in Burgerpants' mouth. He withdrew and smiled at Burgerpants.

“I don't believe it,” groaned Burgerpants. “You taste like a goddamn piña colada.”

“Neat, huh?” said Mettaton. He laid down beside his employee and stroked Burgerpants' head affectionately. “How are you, darling?”

“I survived,” Burgerpants deadpanned.

“Splendid.”

 

Mettaton gathered the top sheet, which was spotted with Burgerpants' fluids, and used it to clean off Burgerpants' fur. He tossed it away onto the floor. He could wash it later, and they could both take showers, but post-coital spooning simply could not wait.

Mettaton pulled Burgerpants to him and stroked the back of his neck and upper back. While not exactly cuddly, Mettaton was comfortingly warm and gave reassuringly firm hugs. Burgerpants could hear faint rhythmic clicking and humming, muffled through the feathered shirt, with his ear directed back against the robot.

“Thank you for indulging me,” murmured Mettaton.

“Man, attractive people making you their slave is actually not half bad,” admitted Burgerpants.

“I only enslave the willing, darling.”

“I did propose it.”

“You're great. What fun.”

“It's nice to see you happy. Even if it's because you're torturing me.”

“I'm always happy.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Oh shut up, like you're a ray of sunshine yourself."

“You got me there,” Burgerpants said sleepily. He shut his eyes. “So boss, hypothetically, what if I did start dating someone in the near future?”

Mettaton kissed the top of Burgerpants' head. “Mmm, I'd be happy for you, darling. Perhaps I'll soon have to let you go. But don't cry for me, love. I'm sure I'll survive without you, but we'll always have fond memories, yeah?”

“I'll still work for you, god. At least for the time being. Unless I'm really fired. No? Didn't think so.” Burgerpants yawned. “I'm sure you'll find someone else to bang. Maybe someone _you_ really want to be romantic with.”

“I'm afraid you were right, darling. I _am_ too screwed up.”

Burgerpants closed his eyes, “Hmm.”

Mettaton was silent for a long time. “I'll be fine,” he said finally.

But Burgerpants was asleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Edit 29 June 2016 - There's an illustration for this. If you'd like to see it, go here: http://motmotfluttersforth.tumblr.com/post/146638775319/indulgence-by-bluecrownedmotmot-archive-of-our
> 
> Enjoy,  
> Motmot
> 
> Edit 21 July 2016 - Corrected a few words. Thank you, Ms. Mallow.


End file.
